


Made To Suffer

by deepestfathoms



Category: The Prom (2020), The Prom - Sklar/Beguelin/Martin
Genre: Blood and Injury, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Touch-Starved, Trent and Angie are best friends change my mind, i have a whole characterization and backstory for this background character i--, im sorry, this is extremely self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:07:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28970328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepestfathoms/pseuds/deepestfathoms
Summary: It took a lot to stop Angie’s forward stride. She was known for her legs, whether that was a good thing or not, and when she got going she was going, much like the antelope or gazelle people liked to compare her to. She was like a one-woman stampede, quick and powerful. And adding even further onto the comparison to cervine, like a mother gazelle, she was quite maternal.That being said, the faint whimper she heard while walking out of the high school she had just raided was enough to make her pause.Or maybe that was just because she was also very nosy…
Relationships: Alyssa Greene/Emma Nolan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Made To Suffer

**Author's Note:**

> if you don't know, Winnie is an ensemble member in the musical! she's the redhead and i love her Very Much

It took a lot to stop Angie’s forward stride. She was known for her legs, whether that was a good thing or not, and when she got going she was  _ going _ , much like the antelope or gazelle people liked to compare her to. She was like a one-woman stampede, quick and powerful. And adding even further onto the comparison to cervine, like a mother gazelle, she was quite maternal.

That being said, the faint whimper she heard while walking out of the high school she had just raided was enough to make her pause.

Or maybe that was just because she was also very nosy… 

Looking up from the photo she had taken of the young lesbian she had come to Indiana to help, she realized she had come out of a back entrance of the school and was now standing on a raised platform of cement that overlooked twin tennis courts. The night sky above her was clear, the moon glowing a bright silver that lit up the figure of someone sitting on the staircase that led down to the ground. Angie glanced at them and knew that the whimper had come from them.

From where she was standing, she couldn’t get many details from the student, mainly because their back was facing her, but she could see that the moonlight was reflecting off of fire red hair in waves of sterling grey. If she strained her memory, she thought she could remember seeing a redhead in the crowd of the PTA meeting. But her memory was also sort of foggy, as Dee Dee took up a lot of her attention with all her yelling and flaunting.

The student whimpered again, then sniffled, and Angie considered going a different way to get back to the bus. Their reason for crying really wasn’t her business, she had already barged into one teenager’s life, and she didn’t want to seem like a creep by randomly going up to them. Surely it would be weird for her, a grown woman, to try and comfort this child that she didn’t even know. Surely Stranger Danger existed in Indiana!

But then again…she was  _ really  _ curious. She blamed her nosiness on Dee Dee, who was always trying to get new info on different events, even if they didn’t involve her. Hence, once again, why they were in Indiana. Also it would just be bad adulting if she left a crying and potentially hurt or dying child on their own!

The clacking of her black Sergio Rossi heels on the cement alerted the teenager of her presence, causing them to whip around to look at her. In that moment, Angie noticed three things all at once: 1) this was a girl, 2) her eyes were as striking silver as the moon in the sky, and 3) one of those silver eyes were swollen and puffy with bruises.

For a brief moment, the teenager had an expression of pure terror on her face, as if she had been expecting Angie to be a monster out for her blood. Her mouth was open like she was ready to scream or apologize, but her soft, youthful features relaxed slightly when she realized that Angie was not the person or thing that exacted so much fear into her. She swallowed thickly, now looking awkward and confused.

“H-hi,” The girl finally spoke, and her voice was like the pitiful bleat of a baby lamb.

“Hello,” Angie said back to her, slowly getting closer, and parts of her realized she was approaching this small, crying teenager as if she were a ferocious tiger that she had to feed dinner to. She hoped the girl wouldn’t realize that, either, and get offended.

When she got close enough, Angie asked, “Can I sit?”

Might as well ask, right? After all, she didn’t know this child. It was the least she could do to avoid making her uncomfortable. And maybe it would ease the risk of her seeming like a predator because child predators didn’t ask for permission to sit with kids! Probably.

The girl shrugged, then said, “Sure.”

Angie sat down next to her. Now that she was up close, she could see the full extent of the black eye that the girl had. The huge splotch of dark red-purple, beginning to border on black, hung heavily beneath her right eye like a malevolent shadow. There were a few spots of magenta all across the upper eyelid and on the rise of her nose, as if Angie had been splattered with paint and not potentially hate crimed by a mob of homophobic rednecks that she and her friends accidentally riled up even more than they already had been. Bright red blood was crusted all around the perimeter of the socket, coming not only from the socket itself but also from the several small but oozing crimson scrapes speckling the sides and lids, making it seem like this injury had been inflicted upon her with an object of sorts rather than someone’s fist. With a wince, Angie also noticed the wide spray of red consuming the girl’s sclera, which she hadn’t seen from far away.

Although she hadn’t been paying much attention to anyone else aside from her friends and the little lesbian, she now knew for sure she had seen this ginger child in the PTA meeting, and she did not have a black eye at the time.

The girl looked away from her, snuffling. She pressed her clasped hands between her knees and leaned forward, gazing out at the two tennis courts. In between them, there was a cement sidewalk, which led out to a road that wound down to a far parking lot, probably for student drivers. Angie wondered if she were contemplating sprinting down there to get away from her because surely this was an odd thing to happen at a high school, even in a hicktown like Indiana. And it wasn’t like she got a good first impression of her anyway.

“What’s your name?” Angie asked, internally wincing at the question. That was definitely creepy. Did she want them to become best friends and make friendship bracelets or something? This probably wasn’t a thing an adult woman did with a kid she didn’t even know.

And yet, the girl answered her anyway, seemingly willingly by how quickly she spoke up again.

“Winnie.” The girl said. Then, before Angie could say something next, she spoke up again, “You’re Angie Dickinson.”

Angie hated herself for perking up like she did. What was she, a dog that just saw its owner pick up its favorite tennis ball? Or, better yet: Dee Dee or Barry?

“You know me?” Angie asked, trying to hide her excitement at being recognized.

“Of course,” Winnie answered, as if she were the president of the United States or someone else that everyone should know. “I saw you in South Pacific.”

“Really?” Now her eagerness was coming out for sure.

Winnie nodded. “Yeah. You played Nellie really well! I love how you portrayed her, especially with how you showed her change of mindset towards Emile’s children. It was really powerful.”

Angie was shocked. Nobody had ever called her performances ‘powerful’ before. Even ‘great’ or ‘good’ was a stretch. Usually the only feedback she got was uncomfortable sexualization of her body and male fans making reviews about how hot she was.  _ This _ \--this was new to her.

“Thank you,” Angie said, attempting to stay modest. She really didn’t want to seem like an enraptured child on Christmas or something, especially when she was supposed to be a professional actress. But also in her defense, she was a chorus girl. She and anyone else who had ever played a background character, dancer, or singer would know that you rarely got complimented in that position. So she wasn’t completely making a fool of herself, damnit!

“That’s really sweet of you to say. It means a lot to me.” Angie went on.

Winnie gave her a small smile, then looked down again, her lips quickly twisting back down into a frown. She sniffled again and blinked her eyes rapidly, clearly not wanting to cry in front of a famous actress. But the action appeared to remind her of her black eye and she made a tight-throated whining-like sound of pain when the smarting flesh made itself known to her again. Her hand shot up to her face (which, in hindsight, probably wouldn’t ease the pain if she touched all over the bruising), and a fresh set of blood-tinged tears streamed down her cheeks.

For a moment, Angie just frowned at Winnie. Now she was starting to feel like the awkward one, as she didn’t exactly know what to do. The maternal side of her wanted to hug the teenager, but she didn’t know if that would be weird or creepy, since, once again, they hardly knew each other. 

But at the same time, watching Winnie just cry without an outlet of comfort was painful, as if someone was sticking their fingers into  _ her  _ eyes. She wanted to do something. She  _ had  _ to do something.

“Did someone hate crime you, too?”

Okay, she had to do something, but that was the worst possible thing she could have come up with.

The good news, though, was that her comment seemed to surprise Winnie so much that she stopped crying for a moment. She looked up at her, blinking her bloody lashes, an expression of confusion on her reddened face.

“Umm--” Her eyebrows furrowed. “N-no. This wasn’t from me being, umm, gay.”

“ _ Are  _ you gay?”

Wow, she was really just going for it, wasn’t she?

Winnie shifted, not quite looking uncomfortable or weirded out, but definitely perturbed. But underneath her visible puzzlement with the questioning, Angie could see that she seemed…relieved and almost honored that someone was talking to her. As if she was used to being ignored and never having anyone’s attention.

“I-I mean, I’m not  _ gay _ ,” Winnie said, rubbing her palms against her thighs in a nervous tick of sorts. “I’m-- I don’t know the word. I’m not attracted to anyone. Romantically or, umm, sexually. That’s a thing, isn’t it? I think it is. I don’t know for sure though. I don’t wanna risk getting caught if I look it up. But umm. That. If it exists.”

Angie nodded, smiling softly at her babbling. “So then what happened? I saw you in the PTA meeting, believe it or not. There was a lot of chaos. But you didn’t have a black eye back in there.”

Winnie’s entire body went rigid, as if she were now riddled with rigor mortis. Pinpricks of sweat beaded on her brow. Her pupils dilated hugely, as if she were a cat that just saw its owner’s foot move beneath a blanket. She suddenly looked very scared and anxious, like she had spilled some secret that she wasn’t supposed to share with anyone.

“U-umm,” Winnie swallowed thickly, stumbling over her words. “N-no reason.”

Angie’s eyebrows furrowed. Suddenly adopting Dee Dee’s oppressive nosiness, she pressed further, “So you just got a black eye out of nowhere? For no reason?”

Winnie winced, as if Angie’s words had taken a physical form and poked her tender bruises. “Yes?”

Angie gave her an unconvinced look. She probably seemed like a mother getting after her child who was claiming they didn’t steal a cookie even though she had clearly seen them stick their hand in the cookie jar. She blamed it on her never having kids of her own, despite always wanting to.

Winnie sighed. “I just-- I got hit on the way out of the PTA meeting. There were a lot of people. It was like a stampede! I just got shoved and-- you know, it  _ really  _ isn’t any of your business.”

There it was. It came later than Angie expected, though. 

A mere moment after her biting retort, Winnie suddenly looked very guilty. She ducked her head shamefully like a dog that was caught eating female hygiene products, despite being rightful in her remark.

“I-I’m sorry. That was rude.” Winnie said quickly. “I just-- It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have…” She trailed off, looking away, and Angie had the sneaking suspicion that she wasn’t referring to her alleged rudeness. 

“It’s alright, honey,” Angie assured her, not missing the way Winnie looked at her instantly when she used the pet name. “I shouldn’t have intruded on you. I mean, we barely know each other. We just met!” She began to laugh. “And now I’m acting like I’m your mom or something.”

“I wish you were my mom.”

Angie laughed, then double taked. “What?”

“What?”

She and Winnie had a five-second stare down, and Angie got to watch the girl’s face turn as red as her hair. The sudden backdrop of seething crimson made her black eye look even more baleful. Then, she yanked her head away, sending her two pigtail braids whipping through the air like twin tails. This time, Angie decided not to press on  _ that  _ subject (though, she knew Dee Dee definitely would have if she had been there, always starving for the drama).

Silence descended between the two of them. Angie knew that the others were definitely wondering where she was, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave Winnie. Especially when she saw that Winnie had started crying again, even though she thought she had helped cheer her up, or at least distract her, a little. But she could now see that this situation ran much deeper than she had expected.

To be around this girl was to walk on shaky grounds, and Angie had to tread lightly.

They sat next to each other for a few more silent moments. When Angie looked over at Winnie, she saw that the subconjunctival hemorrhage was looking back at her spitefully for even possibly attempting to comfort its victim. The blood had almost completely devoured the eggshell white sclera, making the moon silver irises pop out even more, and Angie began to worry about just how hard this child had been hit to have this much bleeding in her eyeball.

“You came here to help Emma?” Winnie spoke up again, her soft, meek lamb voice cutting through the thick quietness,

Angie nodded. “Indeed. Are you two friends?”

“Not really,” Winnie said. “Not because she’s gay or anything. I’m just in a lower grade than her. I know her girlfriend, though! Wait I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about that. Oh god. Sorry, I’m just  _ very  _ observant. I think it’s because I’m so quiet and people just forget I’m there. It’s a double-edged sword, I suppose. But they aren’t always sneaky. Emma and Alyssa, I mean. Wait I wasn’t supposed to say her name, either!”

Angie laughed. At the same time, a darker part of her wondered if anyone ever talked to this girl. Because ranting to a stranger, an adult stranger at that, probably wasn’t a normal thing for a teenager to do.

“I won’t tell,” Angie told her, smiling at Winnie reassuringly. She then tilted her head. “But wait. If you’re not in her grade, then why did you go to the PTA meeting if the prom didn’t include you?”

“I could have been invited!” Winnie blustered. She immediately deflated. “Like that would happen. Maybe it’s a good thing it got cancelled. Then I can’t be disappointed!” She smirked for a moment at that revelation, then instantly wiped it off her face when she caught Angie’s worried gaze. She cleared her throat. “Anyway. My parents fund most school events. For publicity and brownie points because they think it’ll make the school board owe them. They’re one of  _ those  _ rich people, if you know what I mean.”

“Trust me, kid, I do,” Angie said, her mind flashing back to Dee Dee.

Winnie nodded. “Well anyway. Look where that got them. Look where that got  _ me _ ! Now they hate gay people even more and when I try to convince them to not be like that, they--” And then she shut her mouth.

Things were beginning to click into place.

“Winnie.” Angie said. “I don’t know you and you don’t know me, but I need you to tell me the truth. Did your parents hit you?”

“No.” Winnie said much too quickly for it to be believable. Angie had barely finished her sentence before she spit out her answer like there was acid boiling in her mouth.

“Winnie, this--”

“No.” Winnie said again, staring at her, and now her right sclera was completely engulfed in blood. Her sharp expression faltered seconds later, gaze softening with anxiety, bottom lip quivering as tears welled up in her eyes once again. Hoarsely, she whispered, “No. They didn’t.”

They did, but Angie didn’t say anything.

Winnie turned away from her, whimpering like a puppy that had been kicked in the stomach. She buried her face into her hands and began to cry, unable to tame her emotions, even in the face of a celebrity.

Angie watched her for a moment, then reached out and set a hand on her back comfortingly. That was apparently enough for Winnie to twist around and collapse into her without warning, causing Angie to yelp in surprise. She blinked down at the crying teenager now clinging to her like how a drowning woman would cling to a boat, then wrapped her arms around her, thinking it was probably okay to do so since Winnie had initiated the contact.

Lifting a hand, Angie gently stroked Winnie’s head, hoping it would bring her some comfort. While she was doing so, she realized that Winnie’s hair was pulled tightly in her pigtails, so tight that each individual strand was taut with tension. She knew it had to be uncomfortable and wanted to tug out the hair ties, but knew that would probably be pushing the limits a little bit. So, instead, she began to murmur to Winnie.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Angie cooed. “It’s okay.”

Winnie continued to cry, showing no signs of stopping. Angie let her. 

Time passed. Angie did not let go first. After all, she had no idea how much that hug could have possibly meant to Winnie.

After awhile, however, Angie’s phone buzzed and she could no longer ignore her friends. She had no choice but to answer it, and was instantly met with the nervous voice of Trent.

_ “Where are you?”  _ He asked.

At the same time, though, she heard Dee Dee screech in the background,  _ “Angie, what the FUCK?! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?! Do you WANT us to get ripped to shreds?!” _

_ “Yeah, some of the bigger parents are trying to tip over the bus,”  _ Trent told Angie, and Angie then picked up on the sound of yelling and banging in the background.

“Sorry,” Angie said. “I’ll be right there, okay? Drive around to the tennis courts. I’ll be there.”

_ “Okay,”  _ Trent said. Then, to whoever was driving,  _ “Go to the tennis courts!” _

_ “RUN THESE REDNECK COW-FUCKERS OVER!!!”  _ Dee Dee shrieked.

_ “See you soon!”  _ Trent said, then hung up.

Angie laughed slightly, then looked down at the teenager still latched onto her. She really hated that she had to disturb her, especially when she was so distraught, but she had no choice unless she wanted Dee Dee to give  _ her  _ a black eye.

Gently shaking Winnie’s shoulder, she said, “Let go, honey. I have to leave.”

In an instant, Winnie ripped away. Even with her face inflamed red from crying, Angie could tell she looked guilty. She took several deep breaths as if she hadn’t been breathing for that whole time, then choked out an apology.

“It’s alright, dear,” Angie assured her, even though Winnie didn’t look very convinced. She noticed the headlights that appeared in the darkness nearby. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

Winnie looked dismayed, but nodded anyway. “Okay.” She whispered.

Angie got up. “I hope you feel better soon.”   
Winnie nodded again, not saying anything else. She wiped her eyes and smeared some blood across her cheeks. Angie looked at her for a moment longer before walking down the staircase and the sidewalk just as the bus pulled up to the curb.

“What the hell were you doing?!” Dee Dee barked at her instantly when she stepped on. “Where were you?!”

Sorry!” Angie said, sitting down. “I got distracted.”

“Yeah, well we almost got killed!” 

“She’s exaggerating,” Trent said, earning a sharp glare from Dee Dee. He slid next to Angie in the seat. Being the concerned best friend he was, his expression quickly turned worried when he looked at her. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Angie said. “I’m okay.”

“Let’s get out of here already,” Dee Dee grumbled, slumping down next to Barry.

The bus jolted as it began to move again. And right as they pulled out, Angie caught a glimpse of two sharply-dressed people coming out of the door on the ledge and Winnie whipping around with the same expression of terror she had been met with before.

**Author's Note:**

> a keychain. she was hit with a keychain.


End file.
